


The Librarian

by WinterWolf649



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Alternate Universe - Library, M/M, a really cute lil romance, hella cute in my opinion
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-21
Updated: 2020-02-21
Packaged: 2021-02-28 03:48:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 942
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22837300
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WinterWolf649/pseuds/WinterWolf649
Summary: Simmons is alone in the library, or so he thinks. Love begins in the library.
Relationships: Grimmons - Relationship, Simmons/Grif
Comments: 5
Kudos: 18





	The Librarian

**Author's Note:**

> This short story was inspired by Bitsby and other new friends I’ve made in the RVB fandom. I’m not completely caught up with the series, I need to watch season 16 and onwards still. If the characterization is off, please help me by giving me constructive criticism.

Simmons sighed against his cold hand, he was bored and surprisingly was feeling a little lonely. His empty apartment was starting to get to him, he figured. The frown deepened on his face. He was alone, he had finally gotten away from his father and the constant disappointment that loomed over their relationship. His dad wanted an aerospace engineer and got a poetic, creative writing librarian for a son.

Melting farther into himself, he tapped his pen on the paper to a short imaginary tune as he was trying to solve this sudoku puzzle. This one was more difficult than usual, he could normally work them out in twenty minutes, but this one had taken him nearly forty and he was starting to get frustrated. Groaning slightly he decided to start on something else, if he didn’t take a break soon, he was going to start being irritated and when that happened he would lose his cool.

Closing his eyes, he pinched the bridge of his nose with the hand he was previously propping his head up with. He took a deep breath and sighed slowly, standing up, he stretched his back. He’d better shelve some of the books he was supposed to shelve tomorrow, he was known for keeping on top of the book pile. There was no one else in the whole building. As far as he knew, he was the only person there.

Simmons grabbed a small stack of books and aligned them on the cart by the Dewey Decimal system and then by the Library of Congress Classification system. This only took a few moments and he was off to wander the shelves and think about some subjects for his poetry. He often wrote about his own feelings and whatever new subject he could incorporate from his daily life. His earlier poems were about his father and feelings of disappointment, his newer ones were about freedom and loneliness.

Simmons was deep in thought when he heard something move. Something snapped in Simmons, he felt a deep panic set in his veins. His breath stuck to the inside of his ribs, he slowly inched his way towards where he had heard the sound come from.

After a long second, he noticed a stocky tanned man lazing about in the sun on a small couch in a quiet corner.

“Ahem,” Simmons cleared his throat, clearly annoyed at the other’s presence in what he thought was **his** small empty library.

The figure opened an eye lazily and closed it again “hi?” He asked .

“What are you doing?” Simmons interrogated while frowning openly. Normally he was more amicable to visitors to his library, but that was when they didn’t scare the hell out of him.

“Relaxing, isn’t that obvious?” The breathtaking, ~~literally and figuratively~~ , man responded nonchalantly.

Simmons took a long glance at this lazy dumbass and his cheeks heated up exponentially and he felt something rise through his chest, he assumed it was irritation and he decided to act accordingly. “Well, a library is **not** a place for a nap.”

The tanned god sat up slowly and stared into Simmons’s soul briefly before rolling his eyes. “Never said I was napping, did I, _read_ -head?” Simmons was sure his face was as red as his hair.

“Anyway,” Simmons began through his teeth. “I have to finish something, if you need help, I will be at the front desk soon.”

Simmons turned his back to the beautiful intruder and nearly got to the cart he had abandoned earlier when he had heard the warm voice come from the bronze man behind him. “Grif,” Simmons heard him say.

“What?” He asked quizzically.

“That’s my name,” he pointed towards himself broadly and grinned leisurely. He then pointed to Simmons, “what’s yours?”

Simmons nearly couldn’t compute what he had heard from Grif and to his surprise, his face got even warmer. “S-Simmons, Richard S-Simmons,” he said before he quickly turned around and tripped, nearly falling down while he caught himself on the cart.

He got back to shelving the books and new poems flooded into his head. He absentmindedly put books in their proper places while he was deep in thought. The last book was shelved and he hurried back to the front desk.

Poetry flowed from his hands onto the paper. His thoughts, feelings, and newly found creativity poured onto the page. He ran out of space on one page and then he filled another and another. He was so lost in thought that he _nearly_ missed the sound of footsteps nearing his station.

“I like your poetry,” Grif’s voice resonated through Simmons. The red-head turned a shade of maroon that he never thought possible before today. “You said that you could help me if I came to your desk,” Grif leaned in closer as he grinned slyly.

“Ye-yeah, do you need a book recommendation? Are you looking for something in particular?”

“Your number,” Grif winked.

Simmons froze and he forgot how to breathe again. “Hah,” Breathed Simmons letting out the breath he held tightly.

Grif chuckled quietly, he slid a piece of paper on the desk to the blushing disaster that was Simmons. “Call me later, I’ll be waiting.”

He turned and left slowly. After Simmons finally calmed down, he glanced at the paper and saw **Dexter Grif** and his phone number written shakily on a small slip of paper. Simmons added Grif’s number to his flip phone, just to make sure he could send someone his poetry. _It is purely to share poetry_ , he thought half heartedly.

He smiled, glanced down to his forgotten sudoku puzzle and went back to writing poetry.

**Author's Note:**

> There should be a second chapter coming, I need to re-write the second part so that the story is stronger.


End file.
